The Luckiest Guy in the World
by The Keddster
Summary: Rick Castle stands in the bedroom doorway, watching and listening... He still struggles sometimes to believe she's actually here, believe that she's his. Fluffy one-shot.


**A/N: Not quite sure where this piece of fluff came from – so unlike me. But the words wanted out, and once I got going I kinda enjoyed writing all the fluffiness. Hope you like it.**

Disclaimer: Zero ownership of these characters. Immense respect and gratitude for those who created them.

**The Luckiest Guy in the World**

Rick Castle stands in the doorway of the barely lit bedroom and there's silence, except for the soft breathing of its one sleeping occupant. It's past midnight, she has been in bed for hours, he's been writing and as he often does before he crawls into bed these days, he pauses just to look at her.

He can easily and willingly spend hours just watching her sleep; hours simply taking in the halo of soft brown curls around her head, the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the shadows her long eyelashes cast over her cheeks, the way her mouth occasionally twitches into the faintest hint of a sleepy smile. He thinks about those gorgeous hazel-green eyes when they are open, wide and bright, looking at him, and he smiles at the thought of her grinning widely at him, a look of delight on her beautiful face.

The surge of love and protectiveness he feels in these quiet, peaceful moments is as fierce as it is wonderful. He loves her more than any of his well-written or eloquently articulated words can ever explain, and would do _anything_ for her; anything to show the depths of his devotion, anything to keep her safe from harm. He still struggles sometimes to believe she's actually here, believe that she's his, to love and to cherish.

He feels like the luckiest guy in the world and he thanks the universe, God, his lucky stars every day for the sheer perfection that is his life now, and tries not to listen to that little voice in the back of his mind; the one that wants to warn him that things are _too_ perfect, too wonderful. Because they have definitely had their fair share of pain and anguish, and Kate in particular deserves the happiness and joy that is now theirs. His only regret is that she doesn't have her mother here to see it, share in it; Johanna Beckett isn't part of this wonderful life they've built, are still building.

Careful not to make a sound, he steps into the room and even though he tells himself he shouldn't touch her, shouldn't risk waking her, he can't keep his hands to himself. One of _her_ hands is resting beside her head and he gently brushes his fingertips over her delicate fingers before tenderly stroking her cheek and the bridge of her perfect nose. She stirs then, whimpers softly as she rolls onto her stomach and he smiles at the way her mouth opens slightly, because it's familiar and adorable. He has often woken to a beautiful sleep-softened face on the pillow beside him, lips parted, soft breaths and soft hair tickling his face.

She continues to stir, sighing more than once and he holds his breath, runs a soothing hand over her back until she settles. His hand is still resting on her back, fingers making comforting, feather-light circles over the delicate fabric of her pyjamas when a soft voice startles him.

"Creeping in here, staring, touching. Anyone would think you're a little bit besotted, Richard Castle," Kate whispers, a teasing lilt to her sleep roughened voice.

He smiles and nods, "Guilty as charged. I just can't help myself, can't believe this is our reality now."

"That makes two of us," she says and takes his hand, lifting her gaze to meet his in the warm yellow light of the room and she kisses him softly.

The love she sees almost bursting out of him still takes her breath away, as does the depths of her own emotions. Her love, like his, is fierce and protective but it goes beyond that, deeper, and she can't explain it, nor can she deny that it has changed her, softened her.

They are kissing tenderly when a sudden, familiar sound startles them both and their gazes drift down, smiles erupting on both their faces at the source of the noise.

"Can you believe we _made_ her?" Castle whispers as he snakes his arm around Kate's waist, his voice soft with wonder. "She's perfect. And the way she sleeps on her belly with her mouth open like that, it's totally _you._"

He watches as Kate chuckles softly and lifts their daughter out of her crib, hazel green eyes blinking sleepily as she whimpers and snuggles against her mother's chest, her little face turning, instinctively seeking food. She is the spitting image of Kate and Castle loves it, loves that both his daughters have won the genetic lottery and taken after their mothers when it comes to looks.

Once Kate settles into the rocking chair by the window she gives the infant what she's after, and Castle watches, waits for the gentle bob of her tiny head and the soft sucking sounds she makes as she feeds before he leans in and kisses them both; Kate on her contentedly smiling lips and Grace on top of her downy, baby-soft curls. He breathes them in; cherries and that wonderfully sweet, unexplainable baby smell, before he resumes his position by the door.

He absorbs the scene before him, memorises it; his gorgeous six-month-old daughter nestled at the breast of her beautiful and extraordinary mother, as she sings softly to her, gently stroking her face, and his chest tightens with powerful, almost primal emotion. He is still awed by the presence of this feisty, flawless creature who seems to have her mother's eyes, nose and hair, maybe _his_ chin and definitely a little bit of both their personalities; and who has her parents, her big sister and both her grandparents completely wrapped around her chubby pink fingers.

"Go to bed, Rick. Get some sleep." Kate whispers as she briefly takes her eyes off her daughter to meet Castle's completely smitten gaze. "She's almost done."

He's about to protest when he sees the tiny dimpled fist that has been grabbing at Kate's chest, finally still, and watches as her little mouth drifts away from Kate's breast, her entire body once again limp with sleep.

"Let me put her back to bed and then we can all get some sleep," he offers.

Kate kisses the sleeping bundle before she hands her to her father and watches as he plants an identical kiss on the top of her head and lays her down, the truly besotted look on his face making her own heart swell. She already knew Castle was an amazing, devoted father, Alexis is living proof of that, but to see him with a baby, a baby _they_ made together is overwhelming in the most wonderful way and she loves him even more than she did before being blessed with this incredible gift; the best of both of them... Grace Beckett-Castle.

She yawns quietly as she steps up behind him and puts her arms around his waist, snuggling into the warmth of his back and kissing his shoulders through the softness of his T-shirt. Her eyes drift lovingly over their sleeping child as she whispers. "She _is_ perfect. Must take after her Daddy."

* * *

**Was it obvious from the start he was staring at their baby or did you initially think it was Kate?**

**Reviews/comments are appreciated more than you know - a wonderful source of encouragement, improvement, motivation and inspiration. Thanks in advance.**


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